


Americano Kiss

by Amelia_Clark



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Castiel, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Writer Castiel, like basket of kittens level fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Dean a month to realize there was a new counter guy at Javaluiah, and the guy was fucking gorgeous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Americano Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> **#1: Coffee shop AU**
> 
>  
> 
> Shout-out to the now-defunct Javaluiah, where I spent many an afternoon in my misspent youth, sneaking cigarettes in the back room. (And thanks to the friendly Weasel who gave me the title.)

It took Dean a month to realize there was a new counter guy at Javaluiah, and the guy was fucking gorgeous.

In fact, he'd probably never have realized it had the guy not spoken to him one morning; Dean stumbled up to the counter as usual, desperate for caffeine, and heard a deep voice say, "Americano and an everything bagel, right?"

He looked up, startled, and the blue eyes that met his woke him up better than a half-gallon of espresso. The rest of the guy wasn't bad either: dark hair indifferently combed, hint of stubble on his jaw, large mouth that Dean wanted to lean across the counter and kiss without saying a word. He didn't, of course, just answered, "Uh, yeah, how'd you know?"

The guy narrowed his eyes—lucky, because it broke Dean's stare. "You're here every day. I know my regulars' orders, I'm pretty good at my job."

"Oh. You are. Pretty good, I mean—you're great. I need coffee, sorry."

"It's fine, I get that a lot." The guy smiled, wide and toothy, and Dean was staring again.

"I'm Dean," he said. "You know, so you have a name with a face."

"Hello, Dean," said the guy. "I'm Castiel. Cas."

*******

Three weeks later, they'd fallen into an easy rapport; Cas didn't bother to ask Dean's order anymore, just punched it in while they chatted about something else: last night's Royals game, the weather—"the _goddamn_ weather," Dean corrected, "this is Kansas, after all," and that was the first time he got Cas to laugh. One day Dean noticed Cas had a book stashed under the counter, a beat-up paperback with a dragon on the front, and so they talked about reading, Cas's love of epic fantasy, Dean's affection for Batman comics.

Sometimes it really felt like they were flirting, Dean thought, glances held too long, hands brushing more than necessary when Cas handed over his cup. But it was morning, he was half-awake most of the time, and he could have just been imagining it. Still, seeing Cas for those few minutes was quickly becoming his favorite part of the day.

He stopped in on the way home from work one Tuesday, realizing he had no food in his apartment—Javaluiah had decent sandwiches—and was surprised to see Cas there, not behind the counter, but at a table, frowning at a laptop in an utterly adorable way. "Hey," Dean said. "What are you doing out here, Cas?"

Cas looked flustered for a second, as surprised to see Dean as Dean was to see him. "I'm working," he said, and gestured at the laptop.

"Oh. Second job?"

"First job, really. I'm a freelance writer, but it doesn't pay very well, so when I saw they needed part-time counter help, well," he shrugged, "I was here half the day anyway, why not the whole day?" He tilted his head at a thought. "Did you really think I was a thirty-five-year-old full-time barista?"

"Uh, maybe? I don't know, I guess I thought you owned the place or something." 

"That's flattering, I suppose. Have you thought about this a lot?"

"I think about you a lot," said Dean, and immediately wanted to flee.

Cas just smiled. "Me too. I think about you. Sometimes I dream about you, actually, it's a little embarrassing."

"Oh," said Dean. "Dreams? I would love to hear more about that. I was just here to get dinner—I could get you a sandwich and eat here?"

"Is it dinnertime?" Cas looked around vaguely, seemed to realize for the first time that the sun was setting. "Yes, I'd like that, Dean."

So Dean bought them sandwiches—ham and cheese for him, green apple and Brie for Cas—and they talked about Cas's dreams over dinner. They were indeed embarrassing, and only sexual in the most oblique of ways, but Dean still jacked off to the thought of them that night, and had more straightforward dreams of his own.

*******

And now there was this new aspect to their—well, you couldn't call it a relationship. You couldn't even call it dating, Dean figured, since Cas was always at work. But it was different for sure, their mutual attraction acknowledged, the flirting blatant. Dean met Cas for dinner at Javaluiah a couple nights a week (then a few, then several), and his chair moved from across the table to right next to him, their feet intertwined beneath, sometimes a hand resting on a thigh while they ate and talked. Cas told Dean about his work—essays, mostly, on off-kilter subjects like Arctic exploration or collectible spoons—and Dean taught him about cars ("I'm not even sure how they work, really," Cas admitted, and so Dean had to steal a piece of scratch paper and diagram the internal combustion engine, Cas's head bent over the drawing inches from his own).

One evening Cas had been holding forth on the worldwide decline of bee populations when he suddenly stopped, took Dean's face in both hands, and kissed him breathless. "We need to go somewhere else," he said when he pulled away. "Somewhere where I can take off your clothes without getting fired."

Dean nodded so fast he made himself dizzy.

They spent that night at Dean's place, and the next night at Cas's, and the night after that.

Two years later, they rented out Javaluiah for their wedding.


End file.
